#chattycathy

2nd January 1803

I have been in such a state since I began writing this that much time has passed.  Linton has passed into a better place, and I need not deal with him any longer.  His illness was tiring as his sole caretaker.  Since then too, Heathcliff has passed.  I am not sorry of being glad, although we did hold him a proper Christian funeral.  I am away on honeymoon, and not sure when I shall return to writing.  Best wishes from York, 

2nd November 1801 

I detest it here.  My only solace is the books.  Even these are mostly drab, excepting one I have found on witchcraft that seems to spook Joseph, and several with my name, only followed by Earnshaw instead of Linton.  I think my mother has written notes in them, and I pour over these scratchings in the relative safety of her little library. 

Even Linton has forsaken me, curse his guts.  If only my spellbook actually worked. Of course, my husband’s cowardice is the least of my concerns right now.  At least my father never saw what a sorry state I am in.  It would have killed him all over again to know my predicament. 

Yesterday, though, a visitor came around.  He is a tenant of Mr. Heathcliff’s, living in my estate.  The wind groaned in tandem with my sour thoughts.  What compelled him to walk here in such inclement weather I could never guess.  His manners were quite perplexing.  He asked if my favorite pets were among the slain rabbits Hareton had arrayed on a chair after hunting that evening.  He also insisted on condescending me in my hospitalities.  His supposition ruffled me and I must admit to behaving quite monstrously.  This house and its inhabitants has quite changed me.  I barely raised a hand when Heathcliff tried to send him off back to the Grange on his lonesome, to say nothing of Joseph setting his slavering beasts upon the man.  Really, I must get away from here, but how? 

3rd August 1800 

You’ll never believe what happened to me.  I am beside myself.  Papa is weak, and I must go to see him, but to do so would be to acquiesce to Heathcliff—and I can see now that he is as wicked as father warned me of.  His tempers must be foul to have shocked Linton into his recent silent state.  He has been ill as of late but insists feverishly on retaining me.  What is the point of making us both irritable?!  He was once quite charming through his letters, and pettily engaging when we met in clandestine after my father bid me not to visit him!  What happened to that boy? 

This brings me back to the situation at hand.  Heathcliff has trapped me and Nelly in the abysmal sitting room of this gloomy house, and no matter how much I rage, will not let me out to see my papa on what must be his death bed unless I marry his son!  Linton is of no help, dare I say as usual, and my cheek still stings from where Heathcliff struck it!  It is all quite hopeless. 

I rely on you to help me decide, as I am reduced to staring out this sturdy window-lattice and contemplating this question:

Please help!

20th March 1800 

I was on the proverbial hunt for the nesting ground of my favorite birds—you can probably guess from my username what they are—when Nelly and I stumbled across the most queer party on the road.  There was a dark man, and beside him one scarcely older than I that I swear I had known previously.  The man was quite cross, thinking I had come to poach his grouse.  What a silly notion.  The way he spoke to me was quite rough, as though he had no clue who I was! 

He assured me I did though, and insisted we call upon him, so we went along—though Nelly was particularly put out at this—and they brought us to a house I recalled vaguely from three years hence.  This was right after my first entry—Sorry for my long absence!—and the house’s visage had not been improved by my maturation.  It was still bleak and dreary, but my companions were so intriguing that I had to enter.  And that is to say nothing of who we found there!  My cousin Linton had visited me once, half a dream ago, and disappeared come morning.  But here I was finding he was only up the moor from me! 

It was a foolish argument between my father and his that kept them adverse to one another, and Linton and I have suffered so for it!  I must find my way to visit him often! 

28th February 1797

Hello!  It’s Cathy, and I just found the most fascinating plant!  Does anyone know what it is?

I was walking just outside of my estate with my former nursemaid and closest companion, Nelly.  Well, Ellen, properly, but you’ll know her as Nelly from my mouth.  Regardless, the two of us had made a perimeter of the grounds when we stumbled upon something delightfully purple in the grass.  It was too small to be York’s renowned heather, so I thought it the glove I lost almost a season ago.  Upon closer inspection, however, it was this queer flower, and I just knew I needed to tell you about it. 

Also, spring is fast approaching, and I can’t wait to get out of Thrushcross Grange! I swear I’ve read every book in the library backwards and forwards, and Papa is driving me crazy!  He always gets melancholy this wintry season, and Nelly has no time for me as the household gets ready for summer. 

That’s why I was so thrilled to get to ride Minnie around the gardens.  It’s no substitute for a true romp, but there is a delightful nip in the air still that makes it feel almost as invigorating. 

Maybe when it gets warmer, I will convince Nelly to take me to the rocks I spied up on a hill on the horizon.  I bet they will be the most fun to climb! 

Don’t forget to follow me for more of my explorations!